REVTGO

It was the mid-1970s in Billings, Montana.

I developed a Sunday morning routine. I would go to Veterans Park and set up a volleyball court on a spacious lawn. The net was supported by two-inch aluminum poles, pulled tight by ropes staked into the ground. The court boundaries were white rope, also staked into the grass.

Friends came and spent the day playing volleyball. At first, there were just enough people for two teams. Each week, more people showed up until it became a regular gathering. It wasn’t just our original group of friends. People from all parts of town became regulars.

We had to establish a few rules to keep the peace.

Teams were always six players each. Winning teams held the court as long as they remained undefeated—or until they were tuckered out. Challenging teams formed by people stepping up. Often, you had to be quick because so many people wanted to play.

We didn’t follow official volleyball rules. The most important rule was no arguments. As long as the ball stayed in the air and in bounds, it was playable. There was no three-hit rule. If the ball hit the rope boundary on the ground, it was out. The idea was to keep the ball—and the energy—moving.

This Sunday routine lasted several years. As the crowd grew, the sidelines turned into Sunday socials. Someone joked that we ought to have a minister and call it a church—for fun.

So that’s what I did. I became a minister in the Universal Life Church.

When a friend asked me to officiate a wedding for a couple he knew, I was reluctant. They were persistent. After finding out it would be legal, I went to a Bible bookstore and bought a minister’s manual.

Together, we planned the ceremony. They studied the manual’s traditional formats and turned it into quite a production. We rehearsed everything: timing, introductions, music, readings, vows, and the pronouncement.

I had never spoken in front of so many people. I wore a suit with baggy pants that visibly vibrated from my shaky knees.

To my surprise, it turned out well.

For a while, people started calling me “Rev.” I thought it was kind of cool. Since my initials were TGO, I became Rev. TGO.

Over the years, people have asked me to marry them. I always say, “No—you have to marry each other.” I suggest they write their own vows. I can only officiate.

I have to admit that most of the marriages didn’t last more than five years. Reality often overrides the fantasy of good intentions. Hopefully, everyone learns to be more honest with themselves and goes on to live happier lives.

On October 4 this year, it will be 45 years since my partner moved in. We never married, and we still enjoy sharing our lives—most of the time. We still have the energy to roll with the flow, in spite of ourselves.

—TGO
===================================================

I write these little stories because Al has been encouraging me to submit something. I’ve never been much of a writer, but at this stage of life, physical activity isn’t what it used to be. Writing short pieces has become a kind of therapy.

Thank you, Al, for the encouragement and the opportunity.

By TGO  ~ Tom Ottersen